


Curios

by hailbabel



Category: Harlots (TV)
Genre: AU, Canon, Drabble Collection, F/F, Fingering, Light Bondage, Modern AU, Packing, Past Abuse, Pining, Praise, Pre-Canon, Season 3 Spoilers, Smut, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:22:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 4,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28307466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hailbabel/pseuds/hailbabel
Summary: This is a compilation of all the little snippets of Harlots fic that I have posted on Tumblr since I began writing fanfic at the beginning of 2019. These range from canon compliant to various alternate universes which I will try to remember to note in the summaries. FitzBirch will feature most prominently, but Charlotte makes a couple of appearances as well, and there will be spoilers throughout.
Relationships: Isabella Fitzwilliam/Charlotte Wells, Nancy Birch/Isabella Fitzwilliam
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter Index

**Author's Note:**

> This compilation is dedicated to anyone kind enough to have read my work and given it a like, or a kudos, or a comment. To anyone who had a kind word to spare, or some encouragement to give. To anyone who follows my work, or who simply read it and moved on. Without you, I would not still be writing.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapters have been organised by pairing/character and any notable tags have been listed.

FitzBirch

2\. [Let's Try That Again](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28307466/chapters/69361674)

3\. [A Happy Halloween](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28307466/chapters/69361947#workskin) \- modern AU

4\. [I Promise](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28307466/chapters/69362301#workskin) \- past abuse

5\. [Whore Things](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28307466/chapters/69362415#workskin) \- fingering, praise

6\. [A Test of Patience](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28307466/chapters/69362865#workskin)

7\. [Bonding](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28307466/chapters/69363360#workskin) \- light bondage

8\. [Concentrate](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28307466/chapters/69429318#workskin)

9\. [Schoolgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28307466/chapters/69429471#workskin) \- modern au, packing, praise

10\. [Stone](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28307466/chapters/69548151#workskin)

Isabella

11\. [A Hazardous Game](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28307466/chapters/69363576#workskin) \- pre-canon

Charlotte

12\. [Falling](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28307466/chapters/69363744#workskin) \- AU, season 3 spoilers

FitzWells

13\. [This Isn't Our First Time Around](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28307466/chapters/69548922#workskin) \- AU  
  



	2. Let's Try That Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following the kiss that takes place at the end of season 3, Nancy struggles with the fallout of her feelings.

Nancy found herself back at the door of Isabella’s home at St. James. She’d run out earlier, and the guilt of it twisted in her gut like a horrible eel. Nancy Birch never ran.

She touched her lips gingerly. Through her gloved hand she fancied she could still feel it there, bright and hot.

“Alright, Birch. You’re here? Now what? Any more bright ideas?”

A weasley looking fellow was manning the door. He was giving Nancy a look she didn’t much like.

“What?” she barked. “Never seen a woman with a stick bigger than yours, hm? No, I bet you haven’t you scrawny toad. Mind your own business!” Nancy raised her birch rod, but it was a hollow gesture. The man snapped back to attention with a look that said he may have soiled himself.

Nancy continued to glare up at the door.

“You think I’m some kind of coward,” Nancy accused the door, raising her voice. “You think I’m afraid of that woman?” Only, she  _ was  _ afraid. Not of Isabella, specifically, but rather of what she might say. What  _ was _ she going to say, anyway? “What, am I supposed to apologize?  _ She _ kissed  _ me _ and didn’t even pay me, did she?”

Nancy grumbled under her breath.

“Slap a woman’s kin and all of a sudden she’s grabbin’ ya and in your space. Pah!”

The doorman stole a furtive glance at her while pretending to stare straight ahead.

“Don’t give me that look, you lackey. I’ll go in when I’m good and ready!” He made a small, terrified noise, but said nothing. “And while I’m at it, shame on you for letting that demon in the house in the first place!”

Just then, the door was opened from the other side. In it stood Isabella.

“Gods be damned,” Nancy muttered under her breath.

“What?” Isabella looked terribly confused. “What are you doing standing in the doorway?”

Nancy shot a look at the doorman who was trying for all the world to look uninterested.

“Nothing, nothing. I… Can I come in?”

The lady nodded carefully, stepping aside for Nancy.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt your… musing, Nancy, but the staff were starting to become distressed.”

Isabella led her back to the parlor where they had stood only an hour before. Nancy raised her eyebrow in question.

“Sound carries in the foyer, I’m afraid, and you were quite loud” Isabella said delicately by way of an explanation.

“Oh. Right. Ah, never mind that.”

Isabella nodded placidly, her expression expectant. The two of them stood there staring at each other for a long moment. Nancy didn’t know where to start. She’d started off on the wrong foot and now she couldn’t get her wits together. Nancy Birch didn’t run, and she certainly didn’t find herself quelled under the gaze of some rich bint.

“Nancy,” Isabella said softly.

“Yes?”  _ Come on, Nance, pull it together! _

“You were going to tell me why you were yelling at the doorman?”

_ Fuck. _

“I wasn’t yelling at him--I was, but it’s not about him--I mean, it’s not about you, either--Damn it all!” Nancy was losing her mind. Despite this, Isabella still smiled.

“Let me start,” Isabella said. “I’m sorry I was so forward. It was wrong of me. It will not happen again.”

Nancy paused a moment to collect her thoughts, her innards finally settling enough for her to make sense of them.

“I’m sorry I left,” she said finally. “Your brother will be out for blood, and you shouldn’t be left alone. But don’t go getting any ideas! I’m not tupping anyone for free!”

Isabella looked uncertain.

“Should I…?”

“No, woman! Listen.” Nancy drew herself up to her full height, trying to summon her usual Nancy-Birch-ness only to realize all at once how much taller Isabella was. She was ruining the effect. “Damn you, why do you have to be so tall? Sit, woman!”

Isabella had the grace to look down to hide the amused smirk on her face, and let herself be led to the chaise and sat gingerly on the arm.

“Is this better?” she said. Now they were eye to eye. Nancy considered this and nodded.

“Right. I shouldn’t have run. But I’m back now.”

“I only meant to say thank you,” Isabella said. “I didn’t mean to cause you distress.”

“Well.” Nancy hesitated. “You fucked it all up, didn’t ya? Now… try it again.”

“Nancy, thank you for what you did. I can never repay you, but only offer a token of my gratitude. May I kiss you?”

“You’re welcome. And. Yes.” This last part she said softly, the wind having gone out of her. Her insides began to squirm again as she leaned forward, bridging the distance between them, stopping just short of Isabella’s lips.

Gently, Isabella placed a kiss at the corner of Nancy’s mouth. It was chaste, and sweet, and she did not linger more than necessary.

“I hope we can still be friends,” Isabella said when she withdrew.

“Charlotte once told me that friendship has many faces.”

“Indeed. As does love.”

“Aye. Well. Don’t go getting any wrong ideas.” Nancy paused. “And you should fire your doormen, they’re terrible.”


	3. A Happy Halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for Halloween, this one takes place in a nondescript modern AU that never made it to fruition. Still, I can't help but wonder if Nance ever survived her date to the theme park.

Of all the things in the world, Nancy couldn't imagine why she had invited Isabella to the theme park. She herself had never been, but she had seen the adverts. Worlds of Fun (what a cheesy name) was running some kind of Halloween event. Nance imagined it would be something like going to the fair as a child. Not that she actually went to the fair. Mostly she just pressed her face against the bars and watched as other people laughed and screamed and crammed their faces with fried foods. It looked like fun. And the adverts looked appealing enough. And, besides, wasn't that the kind of thing people did? Honestly, she hadn't expected Isabella to say "yes", anyway. When she did, it was such a shock that Nance panicked. She said the first thing that came to her mind.

"Like a date?" Isabella wrinkled her nose in that endearing way she had. A date? Oh dear. "That sounds lovely. Where are we going?"

A date. Damn. Was that what she had said? Surely she hadn't meant it that way. Only, of course she did. What else was she asking the woman out for? But she said yes. Oh, hell, she said yes and she's looking at you. Say something!

"Date? Yeah, a date. Um. Worlds of Fun? They're all done up for Halloween. We could go this weekend?"

"Ooh, I've never been for their Halloween Fest! I'd love to go," she said with a genuine smile before adding, "But I scare easy. You'll have to protect me." Isabella winked and left her standing there with the distinct impression that she wouldn't need any protection at all.

Nance shut her mouth, abruptly aware that it was hanging open. For the first time in a long time, she had a date! Her stomach did an excited sort of flip and she resisted the urge to whoop in celebration. Instead, she jammed her hands into her pockets and concentrated on schooling the stupid grin on her face. She was elated, of course, save for one small detail. On top of never having been to the theme park, Nance didn't like haunted houses, or roller coasters, or heights.

  
_ "Good going," _ she thought to herself. But even her own snark couldn't bring down her mood just then.  _ "Kids do it all the time. You'll be fine. Besides, how bad could it really be?" _


	4. I Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I used to think of Isabella as carrying around her trauma as a disdain for touch. I still think that, to some extent, she feels this, but I tend to skip over it in favour of getting to the good, smutty bit of her relationship with Nancy. The following ficlet takes place very early in their courtship, before Isabella begins to really lean into Nancy and the comfort she gives.

Nance gave Isabella a playful swat as she passed her in the kitchen at Greek Street.

Isabella started violently at the sensation, and suddenly she was across the room, eyes wide with a horror Nancy recognized with a sick twist in her gut.

“I’m sorry!” she blurted. Then, more quietly, “I’m sorry. Please, I didn’t think.”

Isabella backed away from her still, though her eyes were wide and glazed with the beginnings of tears, and Nancy could see in them that she was somewhere else entirely. Perhaps even some _ when  _ else. A time when she was not surrounded by friends, but rather monsters. And one demon in particular. She wondered what horror was going on behind those eyes, and if it would ever stop haunting her.

“Isabella,” Nancy said, her voice scarcely a whisper. “It’s just me. It’s Nance. I’m so sorry.” As she crept closer, Nance put out her hand. “Will you give me your hand?”

Isabella finally seemed to see her, her eyes focusing. Her lips parted and she gulped a breath, wringing her hands.

“I am so sorry, Bell. I should not have put my hand on you.” Nancy felt horrible. She knew what it was like to disdain touch so fiercely, what it was like trying to have ownership of yourself when someone else was always trying to paw at you. She had found a way to keep grubby hands at bay. But Isabella was a different creature from a different world, even if she was everywhere in Nancy's world these days. In the market, in the park. At Greek St. They had spent a great deal of time together these past few weeks. Nance could hardly get enough of her. The figure she cut when the sunlight poured into a room, of her long strides when they went for a walk. Of the way she moved, so deliberate and delicate. She was such a familiar and comfortable presence.

“I will never harm you,” Nance said, softly still. Careful not to scare this woman who so resembled a frightened hare. “I’ll never touch you again if you don’t want me to.” The thought ripped at Nance’s insides. Her own mouth protested the words, her tongue resented their taste. But she knew they were true. She thought of linking her arm with Isabella’s, of the brush of her fingers as she passed a cup, of taking her hand and kissing it gently. It was heartbreaking to never do those things again, but not nearly so much as this. As seeing Isabella so uncomfortable by her own hand.

Isabella shook her head violently. "No, please. That's not it." Her voice was barely a whisper. “I’m sorry,” Isabella said quietly. “I--I don’t know what came over me.”

Nance let out a breath she’d been holding, but she did not advance.

Isabella opened her mouth again, but no more words came. Instead, the tears finally began to fall. Far, salty tears heavy with all the things she could not articulate. She took one step, and then another, haltingly as though arguing within herself to close the space between them.

Nancy couldn’t stand it any more. She took another step, brushing her fingers against Isabella’s. Isabella cast her eyes down, trembling.

“I’m so ashamed.” Her voice was only a whisper, nearly lost as she leaned into Nancy.

“Hush," Nancy said soothingly. "There is nothing to be ashamed of. No one will ever hurt you again."

Nance hoped with all her heart that Isabella believed her. She hoped that she would trust her. But she knew all too well that those things would come in their own time, and not at anyone’s bidding.

Isabella’s hands finally came up, grabbing at Nancy’s shirt, scrunching the material like a nervous child.

“I promise."


	5. Whore Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nancy instructs Isabella in the art of whoredom.

Nancy had taught many girls to be whores in her day, more than she cared to think about. When the thought came unbidden, as such things do, she attempted to console herself with the knowledge that she hadn’t forced the life on them. They had chosen it, in so far as girls like that were able to chose anything. With the help of gin she didn’t have to think of it very much. It was a twisted thought, for one, and reminded her of her own debauching, for another.

But Nancy had taught many whores. She’d dressed them, managed them, scolded them. Looked them over from tip to twat, kicked them out on their ears, scooped their arses from out of the gutter, and nursed them back to health. Whores and whoring were what she knew, what she lived.

Never had she ever thought she would teach a marchioness to do whore things. The uniqueness of the situation struck her as she was instructing Isabella Fitzwilliam how to receive more of her fingers. The marchioness had lost the outer layers of her clothing during this instruction, including her panniers, and was down to her stays and chemise, along with her shoes and stockings which Nance had encouraged her to keep on.

She was leaned over a harpischord--which certainly had not been made for this activity--with Nancy behind her. One of Nancy’s hands was between her pale thighs, fingers tracing the gently parting oval of her lips. Isabella sighed.

“Take this leg,” she indicated with her free hand, “and put it on the bench, that’s it.” The harpischord clanged in protest as Isabella leaned on the keys, bracing herself as she obeyed. She smirked over her shoulder, her expression melting to a soft “o” as Nancy pressed inside of her again.

“Good girl,” Nancy whispered as she sank her fingers to the apex of her knuckles. “Look how much more of me you can take,” she praised, her gentle whisper nearly lost under a discordant, lusty moan.


	6. A Test of Patience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nancy isn't ready, but she's more than willing to let Isabella press against her boundaries.
> 
> Written in response to a post reblogged from stuck-n-adaydream on Tumblr that simply said: "I bet you would moan my name beautifully".

It wasn’t that Nancy didn’t want to take Isabella to bed. Some nights she couldn’t sleep for wanting. But the idea of being that exposed, that raw and rubbing up against another person just as exposed, and trying to fit your edges together made her squirm. It had nothing at all to do with the sex – fucks sake, she could do with a good tupping – and everything to do with the feelings, of which she had far too many lately.

So she deflected, again, when Isabella invited her upstairs after their usual midnight drink. Again. It had become something of a nightly ritual and Nancy thought she was getting quite good at dodging gracefully. If nothing else, Isabella had gone from looking disappointed every night to slightly amused. Their blatant flirting and just-this-side-of-sinful touching was just enough encouragement for her not to give up. Indeed, she had begun to test Nancy’s limits of late.

That’s how Nance found herself missing her hat and jacket, her stays askew, leaning back against the arm of the sofa with Isabella’s body braced against her.

“If you’re sure,” Isabella said, her lips so close to Nancy’s ear. “I won’t push you, but I won’t pretend not to be disappointed.”

“And why’s that? You got two hands, I’m sure you can get along just fine without mine on you.”

Nance tried not to think about actually putting her hands on Isabella, or the intoxicating scent of her perfume, or the penetrating warmth of her pressed against Nancy’s chest, or how easy it would be to pull the woman onto her lap.

She tried, but no one was saying she had to try too hard.

“My hands,” the lady said, her voice low and dark, “have yet to fail me. But, I bet you would moan my name _beautifully_.”


	7. Bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short, smutty little piece about bondage that has since spawned at least two full one-shots and another outline for a ficlet that I didn't know I had written.
> 
> Fun fact, I stole the term "fuckbird" from a kinky-adorable letter written by the late James Joyce to his wife Nora Barnacle.

Nancy finished her knot with a smirk and looked down at the woman tied beneath her and reflected on her luck. It was a crisp fall morning, and they were lying in Nancy’s bed with nothing more pressing to do than delight in each other. Isabella was a picture, bare save for her stockings - pale blue and tied with a yellow ribbon - and the rope around her wrists.

“You’re a pretty little fuckbird, ain’t cha?” 

Isabella smiled a giddy, tremulous smile at the rough endearment. “A bird that won’t be spreading her wings.” She tugged experimentally at the rope binding her wrists to the bed and Nancy noted with satisfaction that her knot was secure.

“Can’t have you flying away now, eh?” Nance leaned down over her prone prey, planting her hands on the bed, itching to grab her. “But it’s not your wings I’ll be spreading.”

Isabella turned pink at the implication, gooseflesh raising on her skin.

“You look cold, dove,” Nancy whispered. “Let me warm you.”


	8. Concentrate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nancy finds herself distracted by the delights of the flesh.

Nancy wandered her eyes over Isabella's neck. Oh, how such a thing could be so pretty. Smooth and pale and glittering with pearls. She knew from experience what Isabella's perfume would smell like there, wafting on the warmth of her skin.

"Nancy, are you even listening?"

Nancy tilted her head to look Isabella in the eye, stepping in close.

"No," she said. "Can't concentrate." Nancy slid her hand up Isabella's torso, over the swell of her breasts where she could feel the cadence of her breathing.

She slipped her fingers into that triple string of pearls, listening to them click together as she closed her fist around them. She tugged, gently, pulling Isabella and her cream coloured neck to the mercy of her mouth.


	9. Schoolgirl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set in a nondescript modern AU, Isabella dresses up in order to get some attention from Nancy.

Isabella pushed open the door to Nancy’s office feeling supremely exposed, but it was too late to turn back now. Nancy was already looking up at her from her desk, a big, heavy, wooden affair like you would expect of a college professor. Her mouth twisted into a smug expression.

As always. Her entire demeanor was smug, and domineering like she was cock of the walk. Like she was in charge. She sat back, knees splayed, tossing an arm back over her chair. She just oozed confidence.

Which was why Isabella was here, wasn’t it? It was why Isabella found herself thinking about her so much, even fantasizing about her. Damn her. Damn her and her want-inducing smirk.

"Look at you all tarted up,” she said in that mocking way she had. “Come to see if you can fuck your way into a better grade?" The word “fuck”, so hard and heavy and vulgar, fell from her lips casually. Effortlessly. It gave Isabella a shiver as she watched Nancy’s mouth form around it and toss it out.

Fuck. She couldn’t think. Fuck!

Isabella rolled her eyes and tugged at the hem of her too-short skirt. "No,” she said impotently, wishing she had a better response. But she had donned her old Catholic schoolgirl skirt just for this. It still fit, but it was now obscenely short, and the blouse she had chosen to emphasize her chest was so tight you could hear the buttons screaming for mercy. She’d thought it looked good when she put it on, but now she was having some serious doubts. This idea had made a lot more sense in her head.

And then it seemed to click for Nancy.

“No,” she said, getting up slowly from behind her desk as realization came. She came around and crossed behind Isabella, who stood still, watching as Nancy eyed her like she was a meal. “No, you filthy girl.”

Isabella could feel a warm blush coming on. Filthy girl, Nancy had said. And it shouldn’t have made her tingle, but, damn. She didn’t have any control over the pleasant warmness between her legs. No. Nancy had control of that.

Nancy closed the door softly. Isabella heard the latch click shut, and the lock turn. She breathed in a deep breath as Nancy’s bootheels tapped softly against the tiles as she came to stand behind Isabella.

She drew closer and closer until they were flush, front to back. Until the warmth of her was penetrating the fabric of Isabella’s clothes. And then she drew closer still. She pinned Isabella’s hips to the desk with her own, nudging her knees apart to stand between them and forcing Isabella to lean over on the desk for balance. She could feel the back of her skirt rise up as she did so and something hard pressed between her legs.

Nancy made a deep “hmm” of approval.

Bent over that way, hands braced against the desktop, Isabella wondered suddenly if she wasn’t the first person to appear in Nancy’s office like this. If ever there had been some attractive 20-somethings in here looking to fuck their way into Nancy’s good graces. And then, damn it all, she wondered if they got what they had come for. Thinking that thought made her ludicrously jealous.

Turning to look over her shoulder, Isabella could see her looking. Her eyes raked over Isabella’s legs, over her ass on display in her black lace panties. Nancy slid both of her hands up the backs of Isabella’s thighs and grabbed two unabashedly gratuitous handfuls of her ass.

"No," she hissed. “You just wanted me to fuck you into this desk, didn’t you?”

Nancy ground her hips hard into Isabella's so that whatever it was, that lewd protrusion, also ground into the soft, warm, wetness between Isabella's own legs. Fuck it felt so good that Isabella moaned out loud.

"Is that it? Is that what you want?" Nancy punctuated her question by pulling Isabella’s hips back into her own.

“Yes!” Isabella nearly sobbed as a pleasurable throb pulsed against whatever phallus Nancy was wearing. Her hips twitched as she ached to feel more of it and Isabella flushed with mingled embarrassment and arousal. Nancy uttered a dark chuckle, like she knew. Like she knew exactly how much Isabella wanted her to fuck her, wanted to be bent over exactly like this. Like she knew how undignified and filthy she felt right now.

And how much it turned her on.

Nancy spanked Isabella's exposed ass with such suddenness that Isabella cried out. It didn't hurt, but the crisp tingle of it caught her by surprise, and Nancy laughed again.

"Good girl."


	10. Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's easy enough for Isabella to understand Nancy's wish to not be touched, she's familiar with that feeling. But she doesn't see how Nancy could possibly get any pleasure for herself that way. Nancy tries to explain it to her in her own Nancy way.

The fact that Nancy requested not to be touched when their relationship became intimate did not strike Isabella as strange at all. In fact, it reminded her of the many years she spent insisting on dressing herself and not allowing the maids to touch her. It made perfect sense to her (which also made her a bit sad, but she tried not to dwell on that). She found it disappointing, perhaps, but not strange. Nancy was very good at making her…  _ feel _ things, and she wanted to return the favor. The first time they were intimate, she caught Isabella's hand gently.

"Not this time, dove," she said. And Isabella needed no more explanation. She did, however, become a little self-conscious.

She went home feeling that she hadn't quite held up her end of the bargain.

"Nancy," she said tentatively the next afternoon as they were having tea in the kitchen at Greek Street. 

"Hmm?"

Isabella looked down into her cup.

"Did you… enjoy last night?" Despite her best efforts she could feel her face grow warm, but Nancy only grinned.

"I did," she said in a lazy, smug kind of way. Nancy got up from the table and came to sit next to Isabella. She leaned in and whispered, "I especially liked the way you trembled and called my name when you--"

"Nancy!"

"Yeah, it was something like that."

Nancy didn't relent. She kissed the curve of Isabella's neck and reached down to stroke her thigh over the silk of her dress. She bunched up the material, lifting it slowly.

"Right now? There's people in the house, Nancy." Isabella glanced up at the doorway, but there was no one there and the chorus of muffled bumps said that Fanny and the girls were all occupied.

"Do you want me to stop?"

Isabella shook her head, but she could scarcely breathe.

Nancy reached between her legs and stroked her thigh. And then, further up…

Isabella swallowed a gasp. Her sounds of ecstasy would be perfectly at home here, but she still didn't want anyone to catch them.

"Does it feel good, Isabella?"

“Yes,” she whispered. Her eyes slipped closed and she shivered.

"See how you tremble?" Nancy bit Isabella’s earlobe gently, tugging it between her teeth. “How you blush all the way down to your stays?”

Isabella opened her mouth, but there were no words. She clutched the bench and rocked her hips forward, completely at the mercy of the sensations those fingers were causing.

"Moan for me, sweet girl,” Nancy commanded.

Isabella opened her mouth to say something, but what came out was a low note of ecstasy completely without her permission.

"See that? All of that?  _ That's  _ what I enjoy."


	11. A Hazardous Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An excerpt from a work by the same name, this little tidbit describes what I imagine to be Isabella's first kiss with Evelina, her governess' daughter.

“I’ve never so much as kissed a man,” Evelina said. “How will I know what to do? When… when the time comes?” She cast her eyes down and away from Isabella. **  
**

A single, exhilarating thought crept through her head.

“You could kiss me,” Isabella said. “I promise not to tell your future husband.”

She and Evelina laughed together. It was ridiculous. But they leaned inward, tipping so their foreheads touched, suddenly shy. In the ever-shrinking space, Isabella realized just how much she _wanted_ that kiss. She had imagined herself kissing her mystery husband a hundred times and thought it must be normal to feel repulsed. But this. This thought had never occurred to her. This thought made her breathless.

It was Isabella that closed the distance between them. All she had to do was tilt the smallest bit and their lips were touching. She didn’t know what to do with this new feeling, this soft and warm and light as air feeling, but she wanted more. She leaned in a little more, pressing into this joy. Her everything melted into Evelina, into the point of contact, the point that her entire life had brought her to. She was bright and weightless and nothing could take this feeling from her.


	12. Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlotte awakes in an alternate universe, far away from the events of season three.

Charlotte awoke with a splitting headache and a terrible pain down her back. She hissed and turned gingerly. She had slept at an odd angle across the bed, her limbs twisted up in the sheets like she had thrashed all night. Perhaps it had something to do with the terrible nightmare she had been having. It had all been so vivid, though, like she had lived it. The details were already fading, the characters nothing more than shades–a beautiful, sorrowful woman, a demon of a man, a pair of impish brothers.

What frightened her awake was the inescapably real feeling of falling. There was some kind of argument, and suddenly she had been falling, grasping at nothing but air.

Charlotte ran her hands over her body to dispel the nightmare, to assure herself that she was here and whole. All of her limbs were right and strong, not twisted and shattered as she saw in her mind. There was no way, after all. It was just a dream.

Her mind went back to London, damp and dirty and wretched, and was relieved to be an entire ocean away.


	13. This Isn't Our First Time Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FitzWells AU where Charlotte is reincarnated after her death into a new timeline with little memory of her previous life. Slowly she begins to understand that this is not the first time she has been reborn. Every time is different, save for two things: the woman she keeps falling in love with, over and over, and the fact that she keeps bloody dying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This little ficlet is based on a lovely gif set by [@bowtothewitch](https://bowtothewitch.tumblr.com/post/628215920903487488/past-lives-couldnt-ever-come-between-us-sometimes) on Tumblr.

Charlotte awoke with a start in the pitch black of her room. Her heart was racing and she gulped big breaths to steady herself. She had been having that dream again about the woman fair as starlight with hair dark as the night sky. She was otherworldly… no, she had been a noble? The details were already flooding away, water in her cupped hands.

Charlotte sat up and scowled. Her back and legs ached like… like she had fallen, just like in her dream. There was a party and the elf woman was there. And there was a fight?

She couldn’t make any sense of it. The only thing she knew was that there was an emptiness in her, a void that ached for something. Or someone.

She rubbed at her chest, trying to make it go away. But she knew this feeling. It always came after she had this dream. And she knew she wouldn’t get any sleep tonight.


End file.
